Long Day Coming
by Demoira
Summary: Through 'Viva Las Vegas' at the latest. What I envision were the Czechs ever to leave the humans behind.


1 *I thought it was funny when you missed the train*  
  
They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*when I rang you at home they said you'd left yesterday*  
  
Dropping the phone had been an accident. She hadn't meant to leave the Evanses worried and anxious on the line. But, suddenly, her lungs had closed around the knowledge she had been denying all the way home. She had rushed to the bathroom, leaving the others behind.  
  
No one had picked up the phone; they had all known what the Evanses would say.  
  
They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
2 *I thought it was strange when your car was found*  
  
Kyle was the one who had gone to pick up the jeep. No one else wanted to touch it. They were all afraid that there would be some last sign of hope left there for them. The promises of the past would dwell heavily in those leather seats. Crumbs from last week's snack were enough proof that the others had existed to make their absence worse.  
  
They were each slowly throwing out the crumbs from last week's snack.  
  
They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*by the tree in Ennis where we used to hang around*  
  
Of course they couldn't just leave the jeep. They couldn't just ignore it and leave it baking in the desert sun. None of those left behind could imagine the process: stepping out, looking it over to make sure that there were no signs that aliens had once ridden in it, denying the urge to drop a note that would explain the disappearance of four Roswell teens. The jeep was their only goodbye, but, in leaving, their silence had been the loudest.  
  
They left nothing.  
  
They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*dear Isobel, I hope you're well and what you've done is right*  
  
Every night they each said their private prayers. They each knew the others'. They were only private because they were unspoken. That was all the privacy any of them wanted.  
  
It was strange, the awareness that they all shared. And the fear they shared of ever being apart. They shared this apartment. It had four rooms in it. They only slept in the one. It had originally been Liz's room. But the first night, first Maria, then Alex, and finally Kyle had come in. Only when they were all there and had said their own private prayers did they sleep.  
  
But every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*oh it's been such hell, I wish you well, I hope you're safe tonight*  
  
Images of war were their constant companion through the days. Some days the frightening pictures would only come to one of them.  
  
The flashes never made sense – horror upon horror numbed the mind. There was killing and being killed and anguish beyond measure. Guilt. Remorse. Hatred. After a while, all they could see or feel was the blood. And they could smell it. It didn't smell like human blood. It smelled overripe and sweet, like a rotten apricot or dead flowers.  
  
Maria stopped buying flowers for the center of the kitchen table. Alex stopped buying fruit when he bought the groceries.  
  
Some days, they would all come home at lunch to a crowded bed. They would pile into the room, pull the curtains, and cry in the dark together.  
  
They each knew the others' prayers. They were only private because they were unspoken. That was all the privacy any of them wanted.  
  
But every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*it's been a long day coming and long will it last*  
  
It wasn't that it hadn't been expected. No, the worst of it was that they had all known; somewhere in the back of their minds they had known that they would love and lose. And they had thought it was better than never loving at all. But it wasn't. Not loving didn't hurt. This hurt like hell.  
  
They all knew that the scars would never fade. They each knew that they would never find peace again. Even without the war that they were fighting in their heads. they were all marked, branded by the others. They had given up ownership of their souls, and they couldn't get it back.  
  
None of them were surprised when the test came back positive. Kyle, Alex, Maria, and Liz had been resigned to it long before the signs had begun showing. It was simply more tangible proof of the control the others held on them. And not a one of them felt anything. The test was positive. But nothing changed.  
  
Every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*when it's last day leaving, I'm helping it pass*  
  
They had never even really tried to cut off the ties they had to the others. Never did they reach out to one another. They slept in the same bed, holding onto each other, but nothing ever happened. They were children in that bed, innocent of the thoughts and urges that might have led them to cross the unspoken boundary.  
  
Even as the proof that they weren't innocent grew in that bed, they never let it intrude. The bed was their sanctuary. They needed it's warmth. And they needed each other.  
  
The days seemed to grow longer. The moment forever on repeat in their minds. Their dreams and their days began to fold seamlessly into one another. And nothing changed. Even as their lives teetered on some invisible brink – they could fall either way, but they couldn't go anywhere – they remained the same. The same as the day they dreamed about.  
  
So every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*by loving you more*  
  
It was an obsessive habit, placing the extra glasses and then removing them from the table every night. It was always treated as an accident. One too many people setting the table: they both brought four glasses. And the two sets of four glasses would sit in their neat squares beside each other until one by one they each picked up a glass and set it at their place setting. Then they each would pick up another glass, and together they would move to the kitchen cabinet to put it away.  
  
They never spoke about why they had bought enough dishes for eight people. If asked, they would have said it was for company. They never had company. They never spoke about that either.  
  
They left a lot of things alone. Like the bed, the table was a place of silence. And some words were banned from their lives: peace, war, destiny, alien, FBI, Czechoslovakian, soulmate, love. Instead, they talked about whose turn it was to do what. And then they would all go to bed.  
  
And every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*and who he would become, all the things he'd have done*  
  
It took the heartbeat to make something shift in Liz. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room. So fast and desperate, she imagined it was what her heartbeat sounded like every moment of every day.  
  
The doctor had told her that she should try to reduce the stress level in her life. She wished she could tell him that she was falling apart because the source of all her stress was gone. She wanted to explain that anxiety and worry and stress were good things. It was when they were all gone that funny things happened to you. It was then that your nerves fought your body and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and wait to see which would win. But he wouldn't understand, and she wasn't sure she could explain.  
  
But listening to the heartbeat, the resignation in Liz became acceptance. It was real, was this life. It was something to live for.  
  
For the first time since she had been seeing him, she smiled at the doctor. On her way out, she felt a little stronger inside, like her nerves were buzzing at a lower frequency.  
  
But just as she felt she might be ready to stop going back to the bed for comfort, the war began again in her head.  
  
The scent of the receptionist's flowers wafted under her nose. And her head began to explode.  
  
So that night, like before, one too many people set the table: they both brought four glasses. And the two sets of four glasses sat in their neat squares beside each other until one by one they each picked up a glass and set it at their place setting. Then they each picked up another glass, and together they moved to the kitchen cabinet to put it away.  
  
And they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*would he have loved you and not let you down*  
  
It had been shockingly easy. Maybe it was because she was already numb. She hadn't needed the epidural. Or maybe it was because they were all numb. There hadn't been any panicking in the apartment as she had announced it might be time.  
  
There had been no one to swear at as she sweated. But then, she hadn't really felt like she needed to swear at anyone. This wasn't like they showed it in TV shows or in the movies.  
  
But then, had there been someone to swear at, she might have felt enough to actually care. She was simply grateful that for those six hours there was no war. There was no meshing of dreams with life. There had been no repetitous rerunning of that moment. It had simply been breath in, breath in, breath out, breath out, push.  
  
Breath in, breath in, breath out, breath out, push. Breath in, breath in, breath out, breath out, push. Breath in, breath in, breath out, breath out, push.  
  
They didn't let everyone sleep with her that night. She was terrified of closing her eyes, but she was so tired that she couldn't fight the sleep.  
  
The others didn't feel the comfort of the bed that night. They didn't eat dinner. They didn't even set the table. There was no ritual with the glasses. There was no guarded conversation, because there was no conversation. Alone, they were incomplete.  
  
But still they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*and would he be stronger than his father*  
  
They held him. They looked out for him. They loved him, and played with him, and talked to him. They watched him with haunted eyes. But they never looked him in the eyes.  
  
He was the one crumb from last week's snack that they couldn't throw out.  
  
Still, there was no way of knowing, as they ghosted in and out of the house, who he belonged to. He slept in the bed with all of them. Whoever finished their silent prayer first would hold him in the dark.  
  
They still had eight cups at the table. And they still talked only about the inane. And the bed was still their safe place. And the other four rooms were still unused. But one thing had changed – their private prayers always had one last part: keep him safer than this bed can, protect him from the scent of alien blood, leave his innocence intact.  
  
And every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*don't punish yourself, leave it well alone*  
  
Each of them held one thing back from the others. Like the private prayers, they were only private because they weren't spoken of aloud.  
  
There were days that Kyle would wear his old jersey. He didn't give an explanation, and the others didn't ask why. On those days, he was quieter and left the table sooner. Those were the days when the child would cry the hardest for Kyle's embrace. And those were the days that Kyle was the most willing to hold him. It was tearing at the old sores, peeling off the scabs, deepening the scars that would someday form. It was a pleasant sort of pain.  
  
When Maria suddenly would appear with her hair down, covering her ears, they each would look away. The diamond earrings were a bright and obvious reminder. The child always wanted to play with her hair on those days. In her mind, Maria had long ago recognized the irony that the diamond had the greatest power to cut. The two diamonds in her ears cut her so slowly, that you would think they sawed laboriously through her skin. But she knew it was simply that she only used them for slow torture.  
  
Some days Alex wore his baggiest pants, and if any of them brushed past him they could feel how full the lowest pocket was. He kept whatever he used hidden from the others, but those were the days the child would cling to him and beg for music. And, no matter what, Alex would pull down his guitar and play. He played his old songs: Love Kills and Hurt by Love. He hadn't written a new song since that day.  
  
Liz used to put the necklace that held her engagement ring around her neck and go to work. Those days she would come home late, and she would hold the glass she returned to the cabinet with extra care. The day the child had come though, she had put the necklace and the ring in a drawer beside the diapers and baby wipes. Now, the long days were the days she got up in the morning, woke the child, and looked him in the eyes while he fed. Those were the days she was even more careful with the glass she placed in the cabinet.  
  
Somehow, for all of them, those were the days the dreams were clearer. The pain held throughout the day was stronger in the night when they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*dear Isobel, I hope you're well and what you've done is right*  
  
Every night they each said their private prayers. They each knew the others'. They were only private because they were unspoken. That was all the privacy any of them wanted.  
  
*oh it's been such hell, I wish you well, I hope you're safe tonight*  
  
They each knew the others' prayers. They were only private because they were unspoken. That was all the privacy any of them wanted.  
  
But every night they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*it's been a long day coming and long will it last*  
  
They hadn't really thought about it when they began. The possibility that the day would come when the child was old enough to need more from them hadn't even entered their minds.  
  
The answers they didn't have. The demand for them to talk about all the things they knew they couldn't talk about, had long ago agreed not to talk about. It frightened them. Six years and they still had never spoken of peace, war, destiny, aliens, FBI, Czechoslovakians, soulmates, or love.  
  
How could they begin now?  
  
The child seemed to become aware of the fact that his demands would not be answered. The house became even quieter. He stopped asking for Kyle to hold him. He quit playing with Maria's hair. He didn't ask for Alex's music.  
  
He wouldn't look Liz in the eyes.  
  
The private prayers became more desperate.  
  
Keep him safer than this bed can. Please find a way, there has to be, there must be some way to keep him safer than we can in this bed.  
  
Protect him from the scent of alien blood. Whatever happens, let the secrets and sickness die with us. Never let him fight the war in his head. Never let him feel the pain of the killing and being killed and anguish beyond measure; guilt; remorse; hatred.  
  
Whatever power is out there, leave his innocence intact. Wasn't our sacrifice enough?  
  
Leave him be.  
  
But still they each dreamed the same dream. They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*when it's last day leaving, I'm helping it pass*  
  
The silence never broke.  
  
They hadn't really thought about it when they began. The possibility that the child would also one day leave them. He had become such a part of their world, like the bed and the table and the glasses.  
  
They were never sure if he knew who he belonged to. Liz felt that somewhere within him, he had long ago recognized his mother in her.  
  
But he had also long ago learned the rules of the apartment. It was one of the many things of which he never spoke.  
  
They had never even had to set an extra glass for him; he got it for himself, leaving them to their own ritual. And when he had grown, he had unobstrusively moved out of the bed and into another room. They never really thought about which one.  
  
He had done well at not intruding on them. They held him. They looked out for him. They loved him, and played with him, and talked to him. They watched him with haunted eyes. But they never looked him in the eyes. And he learned to stop trying to look in theirs.  
  
When he left, a few things changed. The war got worse in their heads. They returned to the bed more often. When the table was set, four glasses were set out, and five were put away; the ninth glass stood between the two squares, connecting them. Liz began wearing the ring on the necklace again. And the others returned to their tortures more regularly. The dreams and the days began to fold into one another more seamlessly.  
  
But nothing really changed. Nothing had. Not for a long time.  
  
Not since they had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others. While Maria wailed, Liz had allowed only the one solitary tear. Kyle said nothing, and Alex couldn't move.  
  
*by loving you more*  
  
They had waited so long. The four of them with their arms aching to hold the others.  
  
They didn't know if they would ever stop waiting. Sometimes, Alex wondered if they even wanted to. The one time he had voiced the question, standing outside the apartment, holding groceries along with Liz and Maria while they waited for Kyle to unlock the door, no one had responded. They had simply rushed into the apartment, set down the groceries, piled into the room, pulled the curtains, and cried in the dark together.  
  
By then, it was too late. 


End file.
